Sarah could hear the music drifting through the castle. Its haunting melody was played by the Gothic Underground orchestra - the echo blending the notes and giving the tune a surreal, dreamlike quality.
Sarah stood in front of the mirror - the dress fitted perfectly, and with every breath, it glistened as though the material were encrusted with magic dust. Dainty white flowers with cream and burgundy ribbons were entwined in her hair, which tumbled from under a silver tiara in loose curls. With a deep breath for luck, she made her way to meet Jareth in the parlour.

As she walked into the room, Jareth turned and gazed in awe. "You look wonderful" he smiled, as he raised her hand and kissed it.

"Likewise" she replied stepping back to take in his attire. His black boots and cream tights were somewhat of a trademark, though were transformed by a 3/4 length burgundy jacket. It was encrusted with gems and cream embroidery along the collar and cuffs, with elaborate designs around the buttons. A cream, high-necked shirt with a flowing collar and cuffs that covered his hands balanced it perfectly. Sarah gave a smile as she took his arm, and allowed him to lead the way to the Castle Ballroom.

***

The Ballroom was not unlike the one she remembered from the masquerade ball - hundreds of candlesticks illuminated the room, and soft drapes adorned the walls and ceilings. It did not have the same sinister look though - the guests, although revelling in their wealth and nobility, were incredibly welcoming. As the two made their entrance, the room fell silent, and everyone looked at the couple. Sarah felt rather intimidated by the 100s of eyes fixed on her, though relaxed when they bowed and curtseyed, allowing the laughter and conversation to flow once more.

Sarah hung proudly from Jareth's arm as he introduced her to their guests. She noticed that he could command attention wherever he went, especially from the ladies. They practically swooned at the sight of him - they would laugh for a simple glimpse of his attention and their eyes would follow him about the room. Sarah smiled at his ignorance, and revelled in the stares of jealous onlookers whenever the two stood up to dance.

"Lady Sarah, Lord Kardallen" announced Jareth. The man bowing before her was tall and ruggedly handsome, rather muscular with short black hair. He flashed a smile at Sarah, kissing her hand. Although his face was kind, Sarah couldn't help thinking that he could look truly menacing with relatively little effort. He was short and to the point, and congratulated her on her marriage, and complimented her dress. The cream and burgundy, he informed her, were Jareth's family colours, worn at all noble occasions. After their short conversation, his attention began to turn to Jareth. She observed that they were not the bitter enemies she had imagined - their conversation was conducted with mutual respect... an objective onlooker might even describe them as friends.

When their conversation deepened, Sarah plucked up the courage to excuse herself and do a turn of the room on her own. She talked to the ladies, and obliged wide-eyed gentlemen with an occasional dance. She was truly having the time of her life, until she glanced over at Jareth and Kardallen and saw the beginnings of a heated argument. Both were talking sternly, their arms flying expressively in all directions. Sarah cringed as their protests became louder, and the heads in the room began to turn.

"Don't start Kardallen, you know The Planes were mine" protested Jareth
"Oh don't be ridiculous - there was a settlement of Villdon's trolls on there. They claimed it as his, my father won it in battle, and I inherited it lawfully from him... I suggest you pay more attention to your outer provinces..."

"Well Gentlemen" interrupted Sarah impatiently. "I should say boys, as no gentlemen could bicker half as well as you two."

They fell silent, and noticing the amused onlookers, stared at the floor like a couple of 6 year olds being told off by their mother.

"My dear, I do apologise," said Kardallen sincerely. "Jareth and I should never be left alone for long periods... so, you simply cannot refuse me this next dance." He took her hand and led her to the dance floor - Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Jareth, who smiled an approval before heading off to refill his goblet.

Before the end of Sarah's dance with Kardallen, their attention was drawn to a scuffle at the door. Two large goblin guards were struggling to keep a boy, who could have been no more than 14, outside the doors. Despite their valiant attempts to keep him out until Jareth could be summoned, he managed to slip through their grip and seek the King by himself. Jareth was before him in a split second, and dragged the boy out of the room by the scruff of his neck - Sarah and Kardallen followed.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion? What business do you have here boy?" demanded Jareth.

"Please, Sir, I bring you a message from my Uncle - he is servant to Lord Darmane." At the mention of this noble name, Jareth released the boy and composed himself. "Darmane? What of him?"

"Please, Sir, he's dying... he asks for you, so my Uncle sent me to fetch you."

"Dying! No..." Jareth's voice was hurt

"Who is Lord Darmane?" Asked Sarah

"An old friend of my fathers, and mentor to me" he turned to Sarah and continued "I must be with him... I must leave, now."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." She whispered, kissing him tenderly. "Go to your friend."
Jareth composed himself and returned to the Ballroom, to address the wondering onlookers. "I regret that bad news takes me away from you this evening, though pray, continue." He bowed, and with a kiss to Sarah, ran to fetch his cloak.

Kardallen remained with Sarah and comforted her with surprising compassion. "The journey should only take a few days," he told her, soothingly.

"A few days? But I thought he could use his powers..."

"Jareth possesses powerful magic, and should be able to translocate him and the boy to Darmane's kingdom. Though there are many wards, so he shall have to take the route to his castle on horseback."

"Wards?" Sarah questioned

"Sorry my dear, a ward is a powerful spell which prevents or limits the use of magic. Villdon filled his kingdoms with them to prevent attack. He was incredibly powerful, and only he could use his powers under the ward. So, it takes anyone else centuries to break it... we haven't got round to doing them all yet."

"Oh, I see," replied Sarah, finding it hard to be comforted by such information.

The Ball drew to an end - the guests thanked her for the lovely evening, and expressed their regret at Jareth's bad news. Kardallen had certainly risen in her estimation, and had stayed by her side since Jareth left.
With all its visitors gone, the castle was silent, except for the secretive shuffling of goblin servants. Sarah returned to the Royal Chamber and put on her white night gown. It was eerily silent with Jareth gone, and she was worried about his journey. All the talk of wards and evil spells made her spine shiver - she couldn't shake the feeling of tense apprehension. Unable to sleep, she took her candlestick, and roamed the corridors in an attempt to tire herself out.

By the time she reached the throne room, the servants had finished and gone to bed. Except for the patter of her bare feet, the castle was now truly silent. Resting her candle on the ledge, she gazed out of the window at the stars, and saw the sleepy goblin guard standing watch in the city below.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the crisp night air. Before she had time to exhale, a masculine hand clamped down over her nose and mouth. Panic began to rise in the pit of her stomach as a powerful arm seized her roughly around the waist and pulled her away from the window.

She was unable to breathe, and couldn't make the slightest murmur to alert the guards below. She swung her arms in vain at her attacker, then kicked her legs out violently in front of her - she managed to brush the candlestick from the ledge before being swept helplessly out of reach. She saw it topple towards the floor, and waited with anticipation for the almighty clang - though it didn't hit the floor. A second man, dressed all in black, emerged from the shadows and flicked his wrist before him - the candlestick froze in mid-air, then began to dance as if controlled by the man on magical puppet strings. He placed it upright on the floor before walking over to Sarah.

She couldn't tear her gaze from his eyes - they were an iridescent blue that shimmered in the moonlight, their strange colour changing hue with every footstep he took towards her. As he stroked his hand down her face, the hand was removed from her mouth and tightly restrained her arms. He gave a satisfied smile as she gasped for air and tried to scream... though he gave a silent laugh when even the slightest sound refused to come from her mouth. He nodded at the man holding Sarah, who relaxed his grip.

She instantly took the opportunity to break free, and dove past the sinister man before her. He anticipated her move and seemed to enjoy her predictability, grabbing her hair and throwing her to the floor like a rag doll. Her voice failed to make a sound as he bent over her. He kneeled on her legs to stop her kicking, and held her hands above her head in an iron fist. He waved a gloved hand over her face... she felt a sudden attack of nausea and an excruciating pain in her stomach. Unable to scream and release the pain, it grew worse. Everything began to fade in flashes of black - the evil in those eyes was the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness...